Au Clair de la Lune
by Willowstar157
Summary: When Canada gets an assassination mission he doesn't particularly want but is forced to complete, he's crushed. But what happens when something unexpected occurs, and things don't exactly go according to the Canadian's plans? (Father/Son Franada, One-Shot)


"I-I can't though!" I stopped him halfway through the hallway of the Parlement building. It felt like my entire body was shaking. "Do you have any idea just what you're asking me to do?!"  
"Canada, I know exactly what I'm asking you to do. You've fought him willingly before. You were prepared to kill them all at one point or another."  
"B-But now…!" I shook my head. Stupid bosses. They just didn't understand. None of them did. We Nations relied on each other; we considered each other family, no matter how much we may fight. "I can't… I can't!"  
"Canada, I thought it was part of your duty to do these requests. Besides, you're the only one who can possibly fulfil this role. You were the one who told me when I was elected that only nations can kill other nations." He placed a hand on my shoulder, his eyes stern.  
"But… If they find out it was me, who knows what will happen! This isn't just any old request!" Kuma, the polar bear cub I always bring around with me, nodded at the bottom of my leg.  
"Mister's right. This isn't something you can-"  
"Nobody asked you, stupid bear." Kuma went silent, but I felt his clawless paws hug my leg tighter. I bent down, gently picking him up.  
"Kumajiro's been beside me forever. France helped me tame him; I'll not have you call him 'stupid'!" At the glare my boss gave me, I slowly retracted a few steps before reluctantly adding, "… Sir."  
I couldn't stand up to him, no matter how much I might've wished I could at that moment. It was forbidden for any Personification to harm their boss, even though they could do whatever they wished with us. Intentionally or accidentally, seeing as our wellbeing pretty much relied entirely on the state of the economy.  
"Canada…" The cub whispered, almost inaudible. It was one of the extremely rare times we both remembered each other's name, but that realization slipped away almost as quickly as it appeared.  
"Canada, either you do this, or the bear dies." He said. I couldn't see one flicker of joke in his solid (E/C) eyes. Kuma whimpered, pushing himself deeper against me. I tightened my grip on the cub.  
"…You wouldn't…" My voice sounded shaky. My boss shook his head sternly.  
"And he stays while you're on the mission." He added, ordering my one longtime friend to be taken away. A part of me wanted to yell out as Ontario took him away from me. I saw her send me an apologetic glance as she turned away. Kumajiro popped his round head over her shoulder, stretching a fuzzy paw out at me. I saw him mouthing something, but I couldn't make out what. Everything seemed blurry at the moment. It took all my willpower just to look away.  
"Canada, I'm sorry. But it's the only way…"  
"Fine." I snapped, everything zeroing back into focus around me. Suddenly adrenaline was coursing through my veins. "If you want to risk open war, so be it."  
"We won't-"  
"Who's the one with more experience, (last name)? I've been around for (amount of years) longer than you. I know exactly what triggers it. War will be upon us, whether you like it or not, should I do this." With that, I turned away, storming out of the room. People were staring at me as I marched down the hallway, fuming.  
But I didn't care.  
I tried not to cry as I thought about what they'd say, and then I tried not to think about it, afterwards trying to think of a face other than him.  
None of it worked, though.  
I couldn't get the mission I had been assigned out of my head.  
I couldn't get the image of his long, wavy blonde hair and blue eyes out of my head.  
Once I was sure I was alone, I punched the wall, leaning against it. My vision went blurry and I leaned against my head against my arm.  
"Damnit, damnit, damnit… I thought… Even after everything…"  
Images flashed through my head despite my willing them to leave. To just leave me in peace for once in my long life.  
I had too many of him. Too many great memories.  
Of him protecting me despite being surrounded by British forces.  
Of his way of giving me hope even when there was none to be found.  
Of the stories he'd always tell me when I was little about his adventures as a pirate.  
Of our once-a-month movie nights. He would always sit there and watch the other two argue, just smiling and simply glad to be alive.  
"Merde… Papa, j'excuse… I'm so, so sorry…"

I hopped along one roof to the other. My long brown jacket was billowing around the breeze. "Where is France… I just want to get this over with…" I talked to myself as I practically flew across the city, thanking my nation legs for the extra bursts of strength. I didn't know what to expect when I found him, though… France helped me when I needed it most. He was partly the reason I was independent... I owed him everything. And how was I returning the favour? I hated myself. But I didn't have a choice.  
"You bloody wanker! What did you say?!" I heard Dad's British accent carry across the night air. Great, what was he doing here?  
"Dudes, come on, don't fight. Not again." America too? So, everyone was here, in France.  
Great.  
Why?  
Why tonight, of all nights?  
I couldn't kill him now!  
I'd just have to kill him without being seen by any of them. My body began shaking as the idea.  
I hated this.  
I hated war.  
I hated bloodshed.  
I hated having to do this to my family.  
What would they think of me after tonight?  
 _No, Matthew, think of Kumajiro. Think of the one who was constantly beside you. The one who could always see you. Whether he always forgets your name or not, he's always been there for you. He always will be. You have to do this. For him…  
_ "Honhonhon…" Papa laughed, almost to himself. It was silent for a moment. I could almost see England looking at him in a weird way going 'Why are you laughing, you stupid Frenchman?!'  
Sure enough, I heard just that moments later.  
"Why are you bloody laughing, you stupid Frenchman?!"  
"Because of vous deux. It is always entertaining watching you both." Despite myself I started grinning at their arguing.  
"Come on dude, you aren't any better with Iggy." America used the nickname he knew England, dad, hated. I counted to three in my mind.  
"YOU BLOODY GIT!" England exploded, "I'VE TOLD YOU COUNTLESS TIMES NOT TO CALL ME THAT!" America and France both laughed. By now I could see the three of them. I silently stalked them as they walked through the streets, staying up on the roofs as much as I could.  
"Just… Go off on your own… Please…" I muttered constantly, blowing away an annoying section of blonde hair that was constantly falling in my face.  
They stopped walking at an intersection, and I sighed. I knew this would be the best chance I would get for awhile.  
Unstrapping the sniper from my back, I lowered the point until the scope was directly on top of him, the thin red beam adjusting itself accordingly.  
America, however, must've seen it. I heard his slightly panicked, lowered voice even from my perch on the rooftops.  
"France, jump."  
"Quoi? Pourquoi?"  
"Just do it." He hissed, jerking his head at the French's chest, where the small red dot lay. England's and his eyes widened when they realized what had caught America's attention, their heads jerking in my general direction. Panicking slightly, I pulled the trigger a moment before I could adjust my grip to anticipate the rebound, and the bullet pinged clear as day against the metal post directly beside his head.  
Without hesitating, knowing I wouldn't get another chance, I panicked and snapped upwards, bolting back the way I had come.  
I heard America shout at the others, and footsteps scrambling down the road behind me. Just don't jump up onto the roof, Alfred...  
I prayed as my legs skimmed over the roofing that he wouldn't; that none of them would get close enough to recognize me.  
Twisting my body around so I could change my direction, I began running in the direction I knew the thick woods were.  
I landed wrong in the turn, though, my leg giving out from under me though when I pushed off. It took everything I had not to scream from the jolting pain, to keep running until I jumped off the rooftops, the springy grass bouncing under my feet.  
I almost didn't make it into the tree line before I heard France calling to England and America to wait there while he went and searched for whoever had fired that shot.  
While he went and searched for _me_...

I slid down against the trunk of a tree, hardly daring to breath as I heard Papa's footsteps crunching around the bracken and fallen leaves.  
"Whoever you are, come out!" Papa's voice wasn't it's normally gentle tone. I still knew it, though.  
It was the one he used on the battlefields; the one he used when something had pissed him off.  
Normally, I felt a little sorry for whomever his anger was directed at; being a Personification he had more strength in his pinkie finger than normal humans do in their entire bodies.  
Now, though, the only thing I felt was fear. And worry. What would happen if he found me? Would he ever forgive me? Maybe if I apologized…  
Damnit, why'd I have to miss?  
Of all the times to miss, it had to be the one time it really and truly couldn't!  
My arm muscle spasmed, and it crunched against some leaves. Oh maple… Papa raised his foil, right in my direction.  
"Who is zhere?" He demanded. I didn't hear any room for argument in his voice.  
A wave of déjà-vu passed over me. It was so similar to the one he used when he tried to get me into bed as a kid, except different. It was so much colder than it used to be. I didn't even think he had a voice like that…  
"Show yourself, maintenant!" He ordered. I held my breath, ducking deeper against the tree. "Vous ne voulez pas me poussez jusqu'au point que je perde mon patience!"  
To my dismay, he didn't give me a chance to answer -not that I was going to anyways- before he walked over. I pushed myself upward, despite my leg screaming in protest, and forced myself to run farther into the trees.  
"What? You want to play a game of Chat et Souris?" He asked, running after me. It's no use... I can't keep this up. I thought, just before my leg finally gave out and I toppled down, and, despite my best efforts, shrieking from the stabbing pain that once again shot through it.  
The footsteps behind me slowed to a stop.  
I could sense him behind me. A shocked silence wove its way around us for a few moments until he broke it.  
"Matthieu..? But, what are you..?" He trailed off. I felt his gaze resting on my leg, which was lying at an unnatural angle. I knew there was no chance I'd be able to force myself to stand up on it again. The only thing I could do was lay there and wait until he pieced everything together; if he hadn't already, that is.  
"You are injured! How-?" He walked over, kneeling down and taking off his coat. I stopped him just as he was about to wrap it.  
"Don't, Papa..." I grit my teeth together, somehow still forming words, "Don't help me... Not after I..." I couldn't finish, blinking away tears that were now forming. Be it from the pain or the guilt, I couldn't tell. To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to know.  
He didn't answer, rather completely ignored what I had said. He just paused for a few moments,  
"Where is Kumajiro, Matthieu? Is 'e not with you?" He asked. I bit my lip, both unwanting and unwilling to answer. I didn't trust my voice. "...I see."  
He worked silently after that, wrapping my leg with his coat. It took everything I had not to scream every time he wound it around the wounded limb, every time he had to move it.  
I think I might've heard him apologizing every time I tensed up from the pain. He was talking too quietly for me to tell, though.  
"France..." I hissed out once he was done, gently setting it back on the forest floor.  
"Oui, mon petit Maple Leaf?" I wasn't entirely sure I should talk. But I did anyway.  
"I..." He said nothing, just stood up and walked over to where my sniper had fallen, scooping it up and slinging it over his shoulder before coming back to me.  
"I know. You don't 'ave to apologize, Canada."  
"But-"  
"You think that I 'ave not had any personal assassination missions? I 'ave been told to kill Angleterre, Amérique, Spain and Prussia, even occasionally you, countless times. Among many of the other Nations. But zhey never 'ad the leverage of a companion to use against me, so I could always turn them down without risking the loss of someone else close to me," He said quietly, almost exhaustedly, as he sat down next to me, "You did not 'ave that option, I'm afraid..."  
I pushed myself into a sitting position, ignoring the shriek of agony from my leg. Papa quickly wrapped his arms around my shoulders, helping to support me.  
"Don't push yourself, Matthieu... Not with that leg." He cautioned. I shook my head.  
"I'm fine. I ran enough with it; it can hold me sitting up." He looked at me in surprise.  
"When did it..?"  
"Rooftops. When I changed direction, I landed wrong and it gave out." I winced as another jolt went through it while I spoke.  
"So it was you..." He whispered. I don't think he realized he had said it out loud.  
"Yeah." I blinked away tears once again, forcing them away. He gave a short, sarcastic bark of laughter.  
"I almost did not wish to believe it... A part of me wanted to believe you would always be safe from that part of our job."  
"Papa, you know that isn't the way it works..."  
"I know. But I could always hope." I stifled a yawn. It suddenly hit me that I hadn't properly slept in days.  
Almost instinctively, I leaned against France as my eyelids became heavy. A part of me was worried that he would push me away; it wasn't like the old times, where I could just walk into his room and curl up beside him whenever I wanted or whenever I couldn't fall asleep. Never mind the fact I had just tried to kill him.  
He just smiled into my messy hair though, running a hand through it as he started to sing an old lullaby he always did for me when I was a kid. It sent a wave of nostalgia through me, and, this time, I couldn't hold back the silent tears that fell when I instantly recognized the tune.  
 _"Au clair de la lune,  
Mon ami Pierrot,  
Prête-moi ta plume  
Pour écrire un mot.  
Ma chandelle est morte,  
Je n'ai plus de feu.  
Ouvre-moi ta porte  
Pour l'amour de Dieu.  
Au clair de la lune,  
Pierrot répondit:  
Je n'ai pas de plume,  
Je suis dans mon lit.  
Va chez la voisine,  
Je crois qu'elle y est,  
Car dans sa cuisine  
On bat le briquet.  
Au clair de la lune,  
L'aimable Lubin  
Frappe chez la brune,  
Elle répond soudain:  
Qui frappe de la sorte?  
Il dit à son tour:  
Ouvrez votre porte,  
Pour le Dieu d'Amour.  
Au clair de la lune,  
On n'y voit qu'un peu.  
On chercha la plume,  
On chercha du feu.  
En cherchant d'la sorte,  
Je n'sais c'qu'on trouva.  
Mais je sais qu'la porte,  
Sur eux se ferma."  
_I felt his soft lips on my forehead right before I drifted into a much-needed, however painful, sleep as the song came to a close.  
"Mon petit Maple Leaf, je ne pouvais jamais vous haïssent..." He whispered against my skin, "Je t'aime. Plus que vous aurez jamais réaliser."  
I might've muttered a groggy "Je t'aime aussi, Papa..." in response but I couldn't remember. By that point I was too far gone, surrounded by his comforting presence and the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves.

 **A/N: I want to make this VERY CLEAR: THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE RECENT EVENTS IN PARIS. ZERO. ZILCH. ZIPPO. I STARTED WRITING THIS SEVERAL WEEKS BEFORE THE TRAGEDY TOOK PLACE.  
I've been debating for awhile whether or not I wanted to upload this because of it. In the end, I went with "yes," evidently, however I cannot stress that fact enough. A group of fucktards decided to take action for what they believed was right, and countless lives were lost in the process. In my opinion, such events just shouldn't be translated into something like this.  
That's why I also changed everything into CharacterxReader terms for Canada's boss, so that this wouldn't be in any set date. The only thing that would narrow down the date (that I can think of) is the technology on Mattie's sniper. I didn't know what else to use for that, sadly.  
A buttload of fanart, headcannons, and AMVs on YouTube is what inspired this. Not that.  
Here's the French-English translations for those who don't know this language fabuleux:  
Merde: "Shit" (Never think that Canada -or us Canadians- don't have a mouth. XD)  
J'excuse: "I'm sorry"  
Papa: "Dad," or at least one of several different ways of saying it. Same as English; there's at least ten bloody different ways to address parents. It drives me nuts, but oh well...  
Vous deux: "You two"  
Quoi? Pourquoi?: "What? Why?"  
Déjà-vu: "Already seen/saw"… I kinda hope everyone knows this one though. It's a pretty popular figure of speech…  
Maintenant: "Now"  
Vous ne voulez pas me poussez jusqu'au point que je perde mon patience: "You don't want to push me until the point where I lose my patience."  
Chat et souris: "Cat and Mouse"  
Oui, mon petit Maple Leaf?: "Yes, my little Maple Leaf?"  
Mon petit Maple Leaf, je ne pouvais jamais vous haïssent...: "My little Maple Leaf, I could never hate you..."  
Je t'aime. Plus que vous aurez jamais réaliser: "I love you. More than you'll ever realize."  
Je t'aime aussi, Papa...: "I love you too, dad..."  
Google the translation of Au Clair de la Lune if you really wanna know, cause it's LONG.  
**


End file.
